


The Ring-Mark

by elenniel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenniel/pseuds/elenniel
Summary: Sif's ring-mark is unsual. That she has a ring-mark at all means she has a soulmate, but she has not met a man with the matching mark...





	The Ring-Mark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_ufo_party](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ufo_party/gifts).



> Inspired by chidi-anagonye’s *Sifki Week Day 5: Soulmates* entry  
> https://chidi-anagonye.tumblr.com/post/175837661470/sifki-week-day-5-soulmates-the-day-she-met-the  
> .  
> I took some liberties with the MCU timeline for the last part, so it won't match the movies exactly.

**Two hundred years before the events of _Thor_**

The blue circle around her left ring finger was beginning to plague her. It was supposed to be something delightful – an indicator that her soulmate existed somewhere out there. But it had been almost a century since the ring-mark appeared, and she had not seen any matching mark on anyone.

It ought to have been easy. The blue colour was unusual. Most of her friends had had circles of gold, silver, pink, or red. But even with that limited range of colours, it was simple enough to find one’s intended. The ring-marks would turn up on the exact same spot on the finger, with exactly the same pattern, and so far as Sif knew, it was never a match where no attraction existed. Put the feelings together with the marks, and you had your match.  

Sif shifted to stand a little more in the shade of the trees. It was a relief that the ring-marks were most visible in direct light. At least that way she didn’t have to see it all the time. She had wanted to initially. But as the years went by and no matching mark was to be seen, the blue line encircling her finger became more of a burden than a blessing.

Out in the clearing, her friends were having a competition to see who could hit the fruit hanging from a tree branch. Thor lobbed a stone at it and missed completely. Volstagg sat by and laughed. Hogun tried, hit the correct branch, but missed the fruit. The branch quivered but the fruit didn’t fall. Loki picked up a stone and flung it at the fruit. Like Hogun’s attempt, it hit the branch but did not dislodge the fruit. He turned and offered Sif a smile and a shrug.

She returned both the smile and the shrug, feeling a warm glow inside.

That Loki had no ring-mark at all was of miniscule comfort to her. It meant that he belonged to no one – yet. But it did not mean that he belonged to her either. It seemed most common that the ring-marks appeared within days of each other, and disappeared within days of the partners being wed. She had had hers for a very long time now. It didn’t seem possible for Loki to be her soulmate and that was… Terribly disappointing.

… … …

 

**About a hundred years before the events of _Thor_**

“May your heart’s desire be granted” was a common birthday greeting on Asgard. Loki had heard it – and variations on it – probably fifty times already that night.

“Dearest,” his mother had said, “I pray the gods will grant you favour and your heart’s desire.”

“Son, may you have all happiness and joy and the wishes of your heart,” his father had said.

“Today is your birthday, and therefore a good day!” Thor had boomed. “I wish you all that you wish for, brother!”

All of a sudden, Loki hated that greeting. Evidently, the gods had not seen fit to grant any of these wishes as far as they pertained to him. No blue ring-mark had appeared, though for years and years he had longed for it.

Loki was glad that his birthday banquet was over and he could feel miserable in the solitude of his rooms. He lay down on the bed and stared at the gilded ceiling. Was it too much to ask that he should be the soulmate of Lady Sif?

It had utterly delighted him when she had taken a seat beside him during the banquet. There were very few people he enjoyed talking to more than Sif, and she had looked ravishingly beautiful in her formal gown. The sight of a silver pin in her hair – a pin that _he_ had given her several years ago – brought joy to his heart. But every time her hand caught the bright lights, the ring-mark shimmered into view and it stabbed painfully at him.

She had yet to meet her soulmate – they all knew that. Sif had one; that was certain. The ring-mark was evidence of it. But no one had seen a man with a blue circle on his ring finger. It was extremely unusual and puzzling that Sif had yet to meet anyone with a matching ring-mark. Sometimes Loki got the impression that she was as frustrated by the fact as the rest of them were puzzled.

He wanted desperately to be that man. _Could_ he be? No, it was not likely. The ring-mark should have appeared by this time if he was. But he found that while the mystery soulmate stayed a mystery, there remained a tiny kernel of hope that he could not squash. He held up his hand, gazed at his bare finger, and wished with all his heart that he could wake up in the morning and find a blue ring-mark there.

… … …

 

**After the attack on New York**

Sif stood before Loki’s cell. She looked at him coldly, and yet she also felt like weeping. Was this the man she had fallen in love with all those years ago?

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“The Queen requested that I see you.”

“Ever the loyal subject,” sneered Loki. 

“What, did you think I’d want to see _you_? After all you’ve done?”

It seemed to her that a look of immense hurt flashed across Loki’s face.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said. “I am a wanted criminal, after all. I beg pardon.” He executed an exaggerated bow that made Sif want to punch him in the face.

They regarded each other in silence for a while. Sif had no idea what to say. Frigga had coaxed her into going to see him, and she had gone half-reluctantly, being torn between wanting and not wanting to see Loki. When they had first heard that he had reappeared on Midgard, she had been thrilled – Loki was not dead after all! Then she almost wished that he was, because he had brought an invasion to Midgard, and Thor had brought him back in chains.

“Well? Are we just going to stand here staring at each other?”

“You could ignore me and go sit on that chair of yours. This hardly looks like a prison cell,” she said. “The Queen is too good to you.”

“It would be ill-bred of me to ignore a lady who has deigned to visit me in prison.”

“ _Now_ you worry about having poor manners? Of all things…”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, go ahead and scorn me. Everyone else does.”

Suddenly, Sif was angry.

“You were better than this, Loki!”

“Better than what, exactly?”

“Than _this_! Why did you do it?”

“You’ll have to be more specific. I did so very many things.” His tone was light and mocking.

Inadvertently, her hands curled into fists. “I swear, Loki, if this barrier was not standing between us –” 

“You would… Hit me? No. I think ‘kill’ is more appropriate than ‘hit’.”

Sif was taken aback by the bitterness that had risen in his voice.

“You’d have to do away with the evil Frost Giant, wouldn’t you?” he continued. “The traitorous prince, the false son of Odin, the enemy of Asgard… The _son of_ _Laufey_.”

The last part was spoken with such bile that it made her gasp. Understanding crept into her mind – she saw that he hated himself. Her anger turned into sorrow and pity. Though she could not touch him, she reached out instinctively, as if to offer comfort. But Loki barely noticed.

“I’m sure you know already, dear Sif. I am no Asgardian.” He looked at his hands, pushed up his sleeves to look at his arms. “This is all false. Lies. I am a lie as well as the liar you all take me for.”

His skin started to change, darkening to a dull pink, then dull purple, and gradually blue. Sif found herself gazing at a Loki she only half recognised – the shape of the face was Loki, and the hair was the same coal-black colour, but the eyes were red and the skin was blue.

“Behold, lady, the enemy of Asgard.”

In that moment, Sif was very glad of her warrior’s training. It helped her stand her ground despite her shock. She had a vague impression that if she had started, or backed away, it would further damage him.

“I did not call you that,” she said.

“You did not have to. I can see it in your face. You cannot hide it. These cells have such bright lights that I can see you clear as day. Even that ring-mark of yours turns up in this light.” He motioned towards her hand. “Has your soulmate not turned up yet? What a sha–”

Loki stopped short and gaped at the hand he had been gesturing with. Sif was confused. Then she followed his line of sight.

There was a pale, shimmery circle around the blue ring finger of his right hand. It glinted in the light, like a metallic band the colour of her skin.

Loki shifted back into his Asgardian form even as they exchanged stunned looks. In the back of her mind, Sif wondered if Odin’s – and Frigga’s – original enchantments had sunk so deep that now his Asgardian form held more naturally than his Jotun one. But only in his Jotun skin did his ring-mark show.

“Was that…?” Sif could not finish the sentence.

His voice was several shades above a whisper. “I am not sure.”

A different sort of tension filled the space between them now. Sif found it difficult to breathe. She heard herself saying, “Do it again.”

He swallowed, nodded, and the unfamiliar form returned. There it was – the same pale circle.

They both looked at it, and then at each other, eyes wide.

Sif raised her left hand to hover as close as possible to the untouchable magic barrier. Loki did the same, matching its position with his right hand. The placement, the size, and the pattern of the ring-marks matched exactly.   

It drew a staggered gasp from Sif, and a sharp intake of breath from Loki.

Here, her warrior’s training failed her. She fled.

… … …

 

**The next day**

Loki passed the night in his cell unable to sleep. He clutched at his hand uncomprehendingly, and shifted in and out of his Jotun form several times that night just to see if the ring-mark was still there. He was relieved when the lights were dimmed at last for prisoners to sleep, for the ring-mark was invisible in the dimness so remaining in his Jotun form was pointless.

His ring-mark matched Sif’s exactly, except that it was an inversion – hers was blue circle on pale skin, and his was a pale circle on blue skin. It could only mean one thing: his dream to be her soulmate… Was reality.  

But what use was their being soulmates now? He was sentenced to prison for life _and_ he was of Jotunheim. Moreover, Sif had clearly been distressed by the matching ring-marks, if the way she’d turned around and half run out of the prison was any indication of her feelings. No woman on Asgard ever expected to be matched with a Frost Giant.

 _She must find it absolutely repellent_.

The thought drained away any joy he could have felt in the match.

It was, therefore, a very bitter Loki who greeted Sif when she unexpectedly returned in the morning.

“Have you come to beg me to tell you it was all a trick?” he said. “My apologies, Lady Sif. It was not a trick and there is nothing I can do about it. But as long as I remain in this Asgardian guise, you need not be troubled by it.”

“That is not what I came to say.”

“Then what did you come to say? Say your piece and leave me be. I do not care to be constantly rebuked or mocked.”

Sif’s eyes narrowed, but then she schooled her features back to normal. “I am not here to rebuke or mock. Nor to scold or chastise, beg or plead. I came here to talk. _Just_ to talk.”

“Talk away, milady. I have little else to do and I cannot leave even if I wished to.”

Sif stood there and looked at him for what felt like a very long time. He didn’t like it. As long as she stood there, it was a reminder that he could not have her – despite what the ring-marks said. He could see the thin blue line around her finger, and it was as though the gods were taunting him.

When she finally spoke, her words were not at all what he had imagined.

“I had grown to hate this mark,” she said, looking down at her hand. “I thought it was the heavens challenging me, telling me that my soulmate was somewhere out there, if only I could find him. I could not find him. At the same time, I was troubled because there _was_ someone I loved… But he did not having a matching mark. He did not have any at all. So what was the point? To have a soulmate, and to be in love, yet apparently these two were not the same person. It did not seem reasonable.

“Everyone else fell in love with their matches. Hilde and Meinolf, Jóra and Lefsi…” She named several more of their friends who had been matched by ring-marks. “Either they were already on their way to love, or they were not in love with anyone else prior to it. That is how I understood the ring-marks work.

“But… I loved you, and you had no ring-mark.”

A lump grew in Loki’s throat.

“There were times when I thought maybe you felt the same way. There were looks, words. Never anything direct. But I _thought_ I sensed something. Yet, there was no mark.

“Now, I suppose, we can say with certainty that ring-marks do not lie.” She raised her head. “So tell me, Loki, did you ever love me?”

His tongue was heavy, and he took a few long moments to choose his words. When he found them, they were as simple as words had ever been: “I did… And I do.”

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly, as if to collect herself.

He noted that she had used the past tense – “I _loved_ you.” Did she still love him? He had to know. So he asked her.

Sif opened her eyes, bit her lip, and said, “I don’t know.”

Bitterness flooded back in. “Of course. How could anyone love a Jotun?”

“You have done it yourself!” she snapped. “You let the Frost Giants invade Asgard! You tried to keep Thor from returning, you lied to him, and you tried to take over Midgard… Why would you go that far? I feel like I do not know you anymore.”

The last part was spoken with such sadness that something in him broke. He sank to the floor of his cell, dropping his head into his hands, and heaved a sigh.

Ah, regret. He had not known what it was like to feel regret as deep as this. All at once, he felt the sorrow of disappointing both his mother and Sif. Frigga’s unhappy face when he had been marched up to Odin in shackles. Sif’s painfully sad “I do not know you anymore.” He felt wretched.

But was it not also Odin’s fault? And Thor’s? Odin had always praised Thor more. Thor had always overshadowed him. He could not have competed with that. Yet… Yet Sif had loved him?

It was some minutes before the storm of warring thoughts and feelings quietened. He looked up. Sif was still there, but now she was seated on the floor outside his cell, arms around her knees.

“Why are you still here?” The weariness in his tone surprised him.

“Because I wish to know you better. To know you again.”

“What?”

“Talk to me, Loki.”

… … …

 

**Two years later, when Malekith invades Asgard**

Footsteps of fast-approaching soldiers echoed down the hallway. Someone banged on the door. Sif jerked her head in the direction of the throne room, telling Thor to take Jane and go. “The door is barred but they will break it down. I will keep them here for as long as I can.”

Thor thanked her, took Jane’s hand, and hurried off. But Loki stayed, holding her gaze.

“Well?” she said. “Go!”

“It is good to see you, Sif.”

She smiled. “And it is good to see you too, Loki. But it isn’t as though you haven’t seen me lately.”

“Much as I appreciated your visits in prison and our conversations, this is far better.”

“Oh?” She cast a look towards the end of the hallway, where the banging and shouting was getting louder. The door would give way in minutes. “You should go –”

Loki cut her off, turning her around to cradle her face in his hands and kiss her deeply. She held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other but dropped the sword so she could reach around his back and hold him close. The sword fell noisily to the floor but it was muffled by the rushing blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart.

For an instant, she forgot about the impending fight, about Malekith, about everything except Loki. Her soulmate, her match was right there with her, with no barriers between them, magical or emotional. His arms enveloped her (albeit slightly awkwardly because she was still holding a shield), his lips were warm and his kiss was _wonderful_. Two years of meeting in the prison, separated by the magical walls of his cell, never knowing if they would ever be in a position to even touch each other again – it all made for an explosive first kiss.

But it had to end. When they pulled apart, she pressed his right hand with her left, making sure he saw her ring-mark.

He looked at her.

“ _Go_ ,” she said. “And _don’t_ die.”

There was a particularly loud cracking sound. The door was giving way.

“I will do my best, my lady,” said Loki with a slight bow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write, though I kinda got tired in the second half because I was mainly writing this between 1-3AM over two consecutive days. ^^;  
> Chidi, thank you for coming up with this super interesting idea and for letting me (and anyone else) take a crack at expanding it!


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